


Days By Your Side

by Lire_Casander



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-26
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are snippets of Harry and Draco's lives from the moment they both survive the final battle, and they will not follow any chronological order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Say It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I wanted to hear you say my name._

Draco was staring into the fire, hands around a mug of chocolate that was chilling despite the warmth of the flames. Snowflakes were slowly falling outside, announcing the cold weather. He shivered despite the heat emanating from the fireplace – he felt lonely in that dark night.

He refused to look around and see the state of the house he was currently residing in, for he knew it was an absolute mess. He hadn't tidied up in about a month; he just hadn't found the strength to stand up and start cleaning the mess his life had become since he had last seen the sun coming in the house through the big windows, dirty after thirty days of slovenliness.

Another shiver ran down his spine, making him summon a warm, soft blanket that smelled just like _him_. That last day at Hogwarts, he had sneaked into Gryffindor Tower, where no password was needed in the aftermath of the last battle, and he had taken that one blanket laying on _his_ bed – he had figured that the Saviour had slept wrapped in it the night before, only a few hours after Voldemort's defeat.

He never got caught, and he guessed no one had noticed his thin frame coming out of the tower clutching his prize. Then, after the hearing at the Ministry of Magic, he hadn't gone back to the Manor, but he had fled the country towards Australia in an unhinged race to forget.

No one had run after him.

The knock on the door startled him – he wasn't expecting anyone, and he certainly had given that address to no one but the Ministry. Grumbling, he stood up and went to open. His jaw fell open when he saw those impossibly green eyes staring into his, just like he had dreamt for the last month. "Hello," said the raven-haired boy, leaning in the wooden doorway.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" he said in a low voice, suddenly aware that he was still holding the stolen blanket, hanging to it like he would do to a lifeline. "No one knows where..."

"I have my ways to get around information, _Draco_." The name danced in Harry Potter's voice, softly, sweetly, reverently. "I just had to find you."

"Why?" he managed to ask without showing his nervous state.

"First of all, to retrieve my blanket. The Fat Lady saw you getting out of the tower with it. But, aren't you going to let me in? It's freezing out here."

Draco stepped aside silently, motioning for Harry to enter the flat. Once inside, Draco offered the blanket to Harry, still silent, averting his eyes so the brunet couldn't see the look in them. "The blanket is not the only reason why I travelled half the world, Draco. I wanted to see you, to see how you are doing."

Draco looked up at Harry – he hadn't realized until then how much taller the Boy-Who-Lived was – with astonishment. "You saved me twice," he said when he finally found the voice he had deemed lost. "You don't have to come here to check on me."

"I knew you wouldn't understand," sighed Harry. "I knew you'd think I was here because of some stupid hero complex everyone thinks I have."

"Then, why are you here, if not to _save_ yet another soul, Potter?"

"I'm here 'cause I wanted to hear you say my name." The confession, plain and simple as it was, lit something inside of Draco, warm, comfortable, a feeling he could get used to. "Say it, please."

"Why?"

"Just... say it, and I'll turn around and leave you alone if that's what you really want me to do." The plea in Harry's jade eyes seemed real, and suddenly Draco didn't know what he wanted anymore.

"As you wish... _Harry_."

The look in Harry's eyes changed, becoming wilder, more heated, and Draco found himself drowning in the beauty of those irises just a fraction of second before Harry leant in and captured Draco's lips with his own in a swift movement that however didn't lack softness. The touch of lips on lips, of Harry's fingers tangled in his blond hair, was all too much for him who had wanted that kiss for too long – he couldn't even remember a time when he hadn't wanted it. Draco relished in the kiss, in the feeling of sharing such an intimate moment. When they parted for air, Draco realized he was holding onto Harry in the same way he had held onto the blanket. Ashamed, he tried to let go, only to be pulled into the embrace of strong arms. "Don't leave me ever again, Draco. As cheesy and weird as it sounds, I can't live without you. Please, don't ever let go off me."

Draco blinked at that statement. It was a declaration of sorts, coming from the only person in the world he had ever wanted. There were lots of questions dancing around his mind – why was Harry there, how had he found him, what did he really feel, where did they go from there – but somewhere inside he knew those questions were of little importance.

The only thing that mattered was that the cold inside of him had left for good.

Draco smiled slowly, tentatively, before speaking in a low voice. "I think I need saving, Harry."

"I can help you, then."

They embraced once again, as if trying to mend into each other, carefully wrapped around the other, lips and tongues and hands dancing a private dance no one else was allowed to witness.


	2. It's You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I don't hear the music when I'm looking in your eyes_

The boardwalk was deserted when Harry arrived. The sun was setting, dying the sea oange and purple and a shade of an indefinable colour that reminded him of Draco's eyes lit up by the flames. He couldn't help a smile forming in his chapped lips when he thought of the kiss they had shared the first day he had spent in Melbourne. It had been the reason why he had gone to Australia to see Draco – that and the promise of hearing his own name coming out those perfect lips, pronounced by that low voice, so different from his.

Harry sighed, looking around for any signs of Draco, spotting the blond as he leant onto the handrail separating the sand from the boardwalk. Harry walked up towards him, smiling slightly when the last rays of the dying sun danced in Draco's blond locks, turning them a fiery shade of purple. "Hey, gorgeous," he greeted from behind, startling the other wizard a little. "What are you doing here, all alone?"

"I was waiting for you. I've missed you."

"I told you I was needed at The Burrow, and that I wanted you to go with me, but you just wouldn't listen."

"Guess what Molly Weasley would have said had she found me Apparating at her door." Draco shook his head sadly. "I told you I can't go there. I have to find a home away from England, from the Ministry, from everyone."

"From me too, Draco?" Harry asked suspiciously.

The blond sighed. "I don't want to be apart from _you_ , Harry; please, don't be silly. It's just... it's been so long, and I don't think anyone would want me back there."

Harry shook his head. The pain in Draco's voice was obvious, hurting himself with every word. They had been fighting about it for months, after a blissful sort of unofficial honeymoon once Draco had kissed Harry back, but they had not reached an agreement yet.

"It's not true, Draco, and you know it. But I don't want to ruin such a perfect sunset arguing about this with you."

"It's fine by me," Draco muttered, feeling Harry's arms slid around his waist, holding him in place, tenderly. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Harry watched the sun hiding in the horizon, the sand on fire before them both, and made a decision. "Come dance with me."

"Are you mental? We can't!"

"Who says so?" Harry let go of Draco and stepped into the sand, turning around to wink at him. "C'mon, Draco, you know you want to!"

"But... but... there's no music! And I'm not going to perform a musical spell in front of Muggles!"

"Then we'll have to imagine it. Come here, let me help you..." Harry tugged at Draco's hand, now that the blond had finally gone with him. "I'll sing to you... _Thank you for this moment, I've gotta say how beautiful you are. Of all the hopes and dreams I could have prayed for, here you are..._ "

"What are you singing?" Draco asked softly, giving in to the warm touch of Harry's hand on the small of his back. "It sounds sweet."

"It's a Muggle song..."

"Keep on, please. I think I like it."

" _If I could have one dance forever, I would take you by the hand. Tonight it's you and I together, I'm so glad I'm your man. And if I lived a thousand years, you know I never could explain the way I lost my heart to you that day but if destiny decided I should look the other way, then the world would never know the greatest story ever told  
and did I tell you that I love you tonight..._" Harry sang softly, holding Draco in his arms like some kind of precious treasure he didn't want to lose. The blond moved along, not really understanding the point in it.

"There's still no music," he whispered. "And people are staring, Harry." The brunet only looked up and smiled to the two or three people congregated on the boardwalk.

"Don't mind them, Draco. Look at me, here, just like that. Now let me sing you some more lines... _I don't hear the music when I'm looking in your eyes, but I feel the rhythm of your body close to mine. It's the way we touch, it soothes me.  
It's the way we'll always be, your kiss, your pretty smile, you know I'd die for. You're all I need..._"

Draco sighed happily when Harry made him spin around slowly, as if in slow motion. The two of them danced for a while, the twilight illuminating them as they moved. An old couple just passing by stopped to watch them from the boardwalk, a smiled forming in their lips as the young couple moved in small circles. "They seem in love, don't they?" asked the woman, caressing her husband's hand.

"That they do, sweetie. They remind me of our first days, remember? When I didn't have enough money to spend on a fancy dinner, but still managed to make you happy?"

"I do remember, Austin." The smile in her lips grew wider when the young brunet leant in to place a soft kiss on the young blond's forehead. Sighing, she turned around and took her husband with her, not wanting to interfere in such an obviously romantic scene.

Draco allowed himself to rest his head on Harry's chest, hearing, _feeling_ the other's heartbeat. This was Heaven, he decided, if Heaven was indeed a place on Earth. When Harry burshed his hand through Draco's hair, a sudden emotion took over the blond – it felt like home, to be in Harry's arms, to feel his touch.

It would feel like home wherever they were together.

"Harry," he whispered agin. "Harry, I... I don't think I'm ready to come back yet."

"Shhh, don't worry about that now. We'll find a way..."

"What I mean is... I don't think I'll ever be ready, but if I'm with you... then I don't care. I've found my home, Harry, and it's you."

Drowning in those silver eyes, Harry Potter fought back the traitor tears that threatened to roll down his cheeks. They hadn't said the dreaded four-lettered word yet, but Draco's words were as good as any declaration.


	3. Free Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You went away on your own free will_

He was lying in their bed, on his back, staring at the ceiling as if it were the most important thing in the world. The curtains were closed, hiding not only the sunlight but the dust the windows were accumulating. There had been days without anyone cleaning around, but he wasn't about to get up and start to.

Harry had gone away.

Draco didn't even remember why they had fought – maybe it had been about something stupid and childish, but that specific memory refused to be shown. He could clearly see in his mind how Harry and him had yelled at each other, how they had said so many hurtful things, so many lies that had taken room in his heart and were slowly making him fall apart. He did remember his own last words, spoken in the heat of the moment.

_"Why did you come here, Harry? To hurt me? To make me fall for you and then leave me hurting? Because if it's that, then you can walk out that door and finish what you began."_

_"You're overreacting, Draco!"_

_"I don't want to see you right now, Harry. Please leave me alone."_

Harry had left him. His boyfriend had stood up and walked out the room, but not before turning around at the very last moment on the doorway, and what he had said had sounded so final, that Draco had wanted to beg him to stay right there and there.

_"Even if we never talk again after tonight, please remember that I am forever changed by who you are and what you meant to me."_

Once the door closed behind Harry, Draco had been unable to move. He had heard the front door opening, Harry's footsteps going away, leaving him alone, as if he could survive without Harry. And Draco would give anything in his world to have him back where he belonged. Back in Draco's arms, back in Draco's home in Australia, back in Draco's heart, as though Harry had never left it.

Draco thought he had heard strange noises in the front of the flat, but he refused to lift his head, or to get up and investigate the source. He was too caught up in his own pain to even notice that the noises were making their way towards his bedroom. He just kept on staring at the ceiling, willing it to fall upon him.

"Draco?" he heard, and jumped a mile on the bed.

"Harry," he breathed, looking at the door, where Harry's head had appeared. "What are you... what are you doing here? I guess you said..."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, entering the room and sitting at the edge of the king-size bed. "I'm so sorry I said those things I never meant, and I'm sorry I left you here. I never wanted to hurt you."

"You went away on your own free will, Harry," Draco accused. "How was that supposed _not_ to hurt me?"

Harry dropped his head in shame, shaking it slowly. "I guess I fucked it up royally this time." He blinked away tears.

"That you did," Draco retorted, sighing. "But I said pretty shitty words myself, so I'm not one to blame you." He moved towards Harry and put two fingers under his chin to lift his head, trying to show Harry how much he meant those words.

Harry looked around, head slightly tipped to a side. "Why all this mess, Draco?"

"You can guess."

"Surely you didn't..." Harry gasped when he realized the truth. "Oh, you did. You sat here moping and feeling awful while I was away not giving any signals of being alive. I don't know what to say, Draco, I don't know..."

"Please, say what I need to hear you say, say _I'm thoughtless and foolish_ but say _it's not too late_ ," Draco whispered, eyes welling up. "Please say you didn't mean what you said, and that you love me. I need to hear that you love me, Harry."

The brunet searched Draco's grey eyes, clouded with unshed tears and unshared feelings. "I thought I knew what love meant, Draco, but now I'm not so sure. Is love meant to hurt like this, to hurt the ones I'm supposed to protect?"

"Love is to make mistakes, Harry, but it also means that you don't have to learn from them by yourself. Loving someone means there's always someone else to get you before you fall."

A single tear rolled down Harry's cheek, mirrored by one of Draco's. They stared at each other in silence, searching for the perfect words but knowing that their own wouldn't be trusted after all the pain. "Are you going to stay?" Draco asked out of the blue, surprising Harry.

"Of course I'm staying! That is, if you take me back," he added humbly.

"Only if you know exactly where you're getting into," Draco explained, hurt straining his words. "I know I can be a bastard sometimes, I know I refuse to even _talk_ about coming back to England every time you bring up the subject, I know I am a snotty git."

"This isn't what I thought it would be, Draco, I admit that," Harry drawled. "Travelling across the world to get to you... I feel like I've lost all my illusions, like I've drowned in your words, but let me tell you this so you understand it completely." Harry waited until Draco breathed out the air he had been holding in as Harry's words were said. "I have left my confusion to a cynical world, I am throwing myself at things I don't understand, discovering enlightenment holding your hand."

"I... I don't understand," Draco stuttered.

"I don't know where I'm getting into, because I always jump in without thinking. But this thing we have, this love we don't know how to control, these feelings that sometimes take the best of us... all of this, Draco, is worth the trouble. I don't know where we go from here, but I really want to know, if you forgive me and let me walk with you for as long as you live."

It seemed as if Draco was weighing up Harry's words, trying to come up with a decision. Harry was left with a heart pounding hard in his chest and so short of breath he was starting to feel light headed.

"I love you too, Harry," he finally said.  



	4. Night By Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Keep that breathless charm_

Draco smiled softly at Harry's sleeping form, at the peace emanating from his face, at the even breath that proved to him that his lover was still alive.

His lover.

It had taken him a lot to forget about everything he had left behind when he fled from England – his friends, his home, his parents. His love. But when Harry had appeared at his front door in Melbourne, all the sacrifices seemed to vanish in a swirl of happiness and uncertainty. But now, after the first time they had actually slept together, all those doubts had disappeared and happiness was the only feeling remaining.

He was not a virgin, and he knew Harry had had his romantic adventures as well, but it had been the first time Draco had made love to someone, and had been made love to. He had been cherished and worshipped every step of the tortuous way that Harry had chosen to follow until he had reached the waistband of Draco's trousers. After that, Draco didn't remember anything that was at least coherent. Touches that lingered, kisses that bruised, caresses that healed, promises of undying love he was not keen on believing, a slow burning in his groin and a hot pressure somewhere deep inside of him. Then it all had come undone, leaving them both struggling for air after the most erotic and romantic night of their lives.

Draco sighed softly, but that sound was enough to wake the brunet sleeping by his side. "Hey," Harry said.

"Hey. Sorry to have woken you."

"Don't be. I don't know how I was able to sleep."

"Because you were tired?" Draco ventured.

"I shouldn't have been tired enough to fall asleep instead of watching you every second of the night. I want to look at you every moment of my life."

Draco blushed. "Even right now?" He touched his mussed hair, flattened after a session when Harry's weight had thrust him to the mattress, and he was aware of his pink cheeks. "Even right now, when my looks are not perfect?"

"You always are perfect to me, Draco," Harry assured, a finger tracing his lover's features in a gentle movement. "I wish I could convince you of how beautiful you are."

Draco remained silent, his smile fading and his hands travelling unconsciously towards his lower back, where rested a huge, lineal scar, the result of his staying in Azkaban before the trial. "I don't care about your scars," Harry kept on talking. "I don't care, as long as you don't care about mine."

"I..." Draco whispered. "You know I don't care that you are Harry Potter, that you have a lightning-bolt shaped scar in your forehead."

"I was talking about soul scars." Harry lifted himself upon one elbow. "We've shared the most intimate moment two people can share, but you know I'm marred for life with the memories of what I shouldn't have lived."

"I promised to heal you," Draco whispered again.

"And you will, but you have to allow me to heal _you_ , Draco. Let me, please. Please," Harry pleaded, his lips dangerously near Draco's ear. When they kissed Draco's skin, the blond felt his soul set afire. "There's a way to show you," Harry murmured.

"Then, by all means, show me," Draco asked, slowly melting under Harry's ministrations.

The brunet swished his wrist and muttered some wandless spell, and suddenly the air filled with the notes of a Muggle song Draco had heard during his lonely days at Melbourne. Harry hummed the melody in the blond's ear, who shivered in pleasure and anticipation.

 _Some day, when I'm awfully low,_  
When the world is cold,  
I will feel a glow just thinking of you...  
And the way you look tonight.  
Yes you're lovely, with your smile so warm  
And your cheeks so soft,  
There is nothing for me but to love you,  
And the way you look tonight.  
With each word your tenderness grows,  
Tearing my fear apart...  
And that laugh that wrinkles your nose,  
It touches my foolish heart.  
Lovely ... never, ever change.  
Keep that breathless charm.  
Won't you please arrange it?  
'cause I love you ... just the way you look tonight.  
Just the way you look tonight.

Draco's eyes welled up in tears, happiness and fear mixing in his soul as the lyrics poured down on him like raindrops. "Really?" he asked. "You really think I should never change?"

"You should never change," Harry assured him. "I would never ask you to, and whoever may tell you that by changing you'd become a better person is wrong."

Draco smiled warily, salty tears splashing down his cheeks as Harry held him in his arms and lulled him to sleep.

*-*-*-*-*-*

The very next day, while waiting for Harry to come back home after running some errands, Draco came across Joe Cocker's _You Can Leave Your Hat On_ by accident. Curious, he put it on a CD player and started to dance to the music, swaying his hips slowly and enjoying every second of it.

When it stopped, an amused throat clearing brought him to reality – to a reality where Harry was standing by the doorway.

"Harry," he said, mortified that his boyfriend had seen him engaged in such a Muggle activity.

"Hello to you too," Harry grinned. "That was quite a show, Draco. I didn't know you could wriggle like that outside the bedroom…"

"Fuck off, Potter," Draco retorted half playfully, but Harry had walked towards him with that depredatory look in his green gaze.

"I'm on my way to doing just that," Harry promised, his hands already undoing Draco.

"What--- Gods, Harry--- What do you want from me?" Draco gasped as Harry's hands roamed over his thin frame.

"I want a _proper_ show, Malfoy."

In his haste to start a new striptease, Draco almost tripped over his own feet.


	5. Memories Of Our Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The only thing that mattered was that he had found his true home._

Harry looked at Draco peacefully sleeping in the seat next to his. They had decided to go back to England by plane, because Draco wanted the trip to last as long as possible – he was still reluctant about coming back. Smiling, he remembered the first time he had seen the blond asleep, though the circumstances back then weren't the best.

_Harry stepped into Azkaban with the feeling of being thrown into a different dimension. Although the Dementors had already left the building, their presence was still palpable in the mood of everyone residing there. Even the Aurors that had been assigned to guard the prison seemed as lifeless as the cells._

_"Name and position, sir," demanded a petite witch sitting behind a reception desk._

_"Harry Potter," he announced simply, sighing when the witch almost squealed. "I'm here to see Draco Malfoy."_

_"Malfoy, sir?" she paled. "They are all in isolation cells, sir, no one can visit them."_

_"Surely you can make an exception for the Saviour." He hated that word, the title the papers had given to him, but it came in handy when needed. He reached his aim when the witch stood up and hastily guided him through a maze of corridors and locked doors. He lost count of the number of cells they passed by, of the wails and cries coming from the inside._

_They entered a security area painted in bright red colours, the witch looking around her anxiously as the approached the last of cells, at the end of a scary corridor. "Stay here and don't make any noise," she warned him when they reached the bottom. "These prisoners are very dangerous, sir. We don't want to risk you being injured."_

_Harry rolled his eyes at the statement, biting his tongue as not to retort that he had faced one of the most powerful wizards in the world _and_ won the battle. Instead, he just waited until the door of the last cell was opened and a ray of light filled the dusty space. Harry's eyes had a tough time adjusting to the lack of illumination inside, but when they did he could see a thin figure resting on the cold floor, blond hair dirty and tangled around the neck. Harry's heart clenched at the sight – the hurting didn't stop when he realized that the heaving in that chest was from slumber rather than from pain or fear._

He didn't know the reason why he had felt compelled to visit Draco back then, when their relationship was still based on a blind hatred. Maybe he already felt something for the blond – maybe he had felt something for Draco for some time but he wasn't ready to acknowledge that fact then. He knew that his heart had broken when Draco had fled, and that he hadn't been happy until he had started his quest for a dream.

Draco moved a bit in his slumber, starting Harry, who wondered whether his thoughts were powerful enough to wake the sleeping figure. When Draco stayed asleep and calmed, Harry let out the breath he had been holding, allowing his mind to wander back to the last time he had seen Draco before he vanished off the face of the Earth.

_The trial was to be held in one of the biggest court rooms, as the Ministry expected a great amount of onlookers and wizarding media, for it was a Malfoy's hearing with none other than Harry Potter as a witness._

Harry sat at the right of the accused’s chair, waiting for Draco to appear escorted by Aurors. He wondered about his willingness to testify on Malfoy's behalf. Hermione was sure he was withholding his true feelings, while Ron had just only shrugged off the issue. Both knew about Harry's preferences for men, but they had different ways of dealing with it.

Harry's train of thought was interrupted as the door opened and Draco Malfoy entered the room. Harry took in his disheveled appearance, ever more than at Azkaban, and realized he had made the right decision.

He needed Draco out of prison.

The trial was shorter than expected. Harry was asked hard questions and he replied the truth – Draco had purposely not revealed his identity in front of Death Eaters; Draco hadn't had a Dark Mark in his left arm.

"He is not a Death Eater, so I ask the Wizengamot to set him free," he finished his speech.

It had not been a surprise when Draco was declared cleared of all charges. Harry, however, felt rather disappointed when the blond didn't approach him to say thanks. Trying to hide his deception, he headed for the loo.

"Why did you visit me at Azkaban?" he heard at his back in the toilet where he had hidden.

"What?" he screeched, caught off guard. "I didn't..."

"Don't try to feed me that shit," Draco said, stepping out of the darkness. "Be honest with me for once in your life."

"Well, honesty was never my strong suit," Harry heard himself saying.

"I know. All those years you told people you hated me, I know you were checking out my arse, Potter."

Then everything happened so quickly it became a blur in Harry's memories, so he couldn't be sure about what was true and what was only a fantasy. Draco leant in, and Harry mimicked the action closing his eyes. Just when he believed their lips were going to meet, the ghost of a whisper graced his skin. "Thank you." Then, he recognized the soft noise of Apparition.

When he opened his eyes, he was all alone.

Draco's eyes fluttered open, and Harry was once again drowning in grey pools of warmth. Draco yawned. "You seem thoughtful."

"I was remembering."

"May I ask what?"

Harry sighed, and decided to be honest. "I remembered the moment you Disapparated after thanking me."

Draco blushed. "That was low, even for me. I know I shouldn't have thanked you then but..."

"I didn't get bothered about your gratitude, precisely."

"Did you get angry when I disappeared?" Draco asked in a whisper.

"I was more deceived than anything. I had pegged you for a brave man. But finding you in Australia was worth every bit of the chasing."

"Will you ever forgive me?"

Harry was torn between acknowledging the plea and hurt in his boyfriend's voice, or acting as though it wasn't important. He managed to smile a little. "We'll see later..." he drawled in what he hoped was a husky voice.

As Draco's open smile matched Harry's, the pilot announced they were going to land. Draco entwined his fingers with Harry's and inhaled deeply. Harry could feel his trembling and laced their hands stronger. "I'm so proud of you, Draco," he muttered.

The blond could only nod curtly, his eyes closed and his stance rigid. He was coming back to England, but the only thing that mattered was that he had found his true home.


	6. Starting Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Maybe I've learnt from the Gryffindor side of my bed_

The first days were a complete nightmare for Draco. It wasn't that he was not used to living with Harry – after all they had shared their lives for months in Australia – it was the fear he felt whenever he thought of getting out of the house on his own. He had heard of riots against remaining Death Eaters, and though he didn't have a mark in his forearm he couldn't help being worried. Therefore, he was reduced to remaining locked in Harry's house, for he had even rejected the suggestion of Flooing some of his friends.

"All of them are either in Azkaban or dead," he had said at Harry's words.

"Pansy isn't locked away, and I'm certain she is still alive," Harry had retorted.

"Pansy is just a dirty traitor. At least I stayed until I was cleared of all charges. She fled instead of facing the consequences of her actions."

"Isn't it what Slytherins do?" Harry had asked, half joking.

"Maybe I've learnt from the Gryffindor side of my bed."

With those words Draco had silenced Harry and they hadn't talked about him visiting his few friends left in Great Britain. But the calm that kept them still could only last so long, and sooner than Draco would have liked, Harry's leave expired and his boyfriend was called back to work.

"Try to understand," Harry had said the first morning of his returning to work. "Shacklebolt wants me back, and I cannot refuse his offer. I already prolonged my leave because I had found you in Australia; this is his way to offer me a last favour. And we'll need the money; we can't live off our savings the rest of our lives."

"Are you implying I'm poor?" Draco had asked from behind his newspaper, where he had hidden in a vain attempt to bury his face in printed letters.

"What? Draco, I never said..."

"We both know that the Saviour is rich, so if we cannot live off the savings then the reason has something to do with me," Draco had continued. "Either I'm poor or I would waste your money."

Harry had rolled his eyes at the statement, choosing to remain silent instead of replying to words said from the depths of pure fear at being left alone. When he had left, he had deposited a kiss on Draco's forehead and had walked away muttering something about _imaginative, self-centered, gorgeous boyfriends_. It was when Draco found himself sitting alone in the kitchen that he allowed his true feelings to arise. He hid his head in his hands and started trembling.

He had learned to live on his own the months he had spent in Australia, building a new life for himself. But Harry had found him and changed his world, and Draco had become quite fond of his new situation. Now, back in a country he had abandoned out of fear and regret, Draco had grown aware of his own vulnerability; he had recalled the reasons why he had left in the first place, and he had started to worry. In a world free of fear, he had nothing to offer to Harry. He felt that, in the end, his boyfriend would realize how hollow the relationship he had put himself into was and would try to get out of it as soon as possible. He scribbled a note on a piece of parchment and left it on the table, burying his head once again in his hands immediately afterwards.

That was how Harry found him at the end of the day, when he came back home after an eight-hour shift.

"Draco," Harry exclaimed, worried, rushing towards his boyfriend still sitting at the kitchen table. "Draco, are you all right? Draco!"

When he got no response, he lifted Draco's chin and found out his boyfriend had fallen sleep with tears still drying on his cheeks. Harry decided to take Draco upstairs and straight to their bedroom, all the while musing about the reasons why Draco must have been crying. He had spotted the piece of parchment on the kitchen table, so he took it and read it on his way upstairs.

_I am sorry for not being good enough to deserve loving you._

It had no signature, but Harry knew Draco inside out and recognized the desperate sound of the words. After spending the whole night awake, Harry found a solution to his dilemma.

The next morning when Draco went downstairs, Harry was already waiting for him, a piece of toast in his hand and the newspaper in the other. He handed both to the blond without a word. At first Draco was pleasantly surprised, but when Harry even moved a chair so Draco could sit more comfortably, he started to grow suspicious.

"What's going on here, Harry?" he demanded in his best calm voice.

"Nothing at all."

"Oh, yes, definitely something." Draco arched an elegant brow. "You are not this nice and obliging unless you want something."

Harry seemed scandalized. "Maybe I'm just trying to make up for everything you lost coming back here with me."

"Is that so?" Draco smiled sadly. "I didn't lose anything, because I had nothing to lose."

"I don't like it when you say those things," Harry frowned. "You deserve much more than what you set yourself up for."

"Really?" Draco didn't need to look into Harry's eyes to read in them what his heart already knew – that his desperate note had reached him. "And what do I deserve?"

"For starters, an assistant. To help you organizing your things."

"Really?" Draco repeated, this time following what he thought was a joke. "I should hire one then."

"I wouldn't allow you to. You'd choose the fittest man in the world and I'd grow jealous so… I've decided to be your part-time assistant. Starting this afternoon after my boring work at the Ministry."

Draco smiled wickedly, his mind providing new ideas, his worries promptly forgotten. "Now that you're my assistant, Potter, I expect you to do everything I ask."

"And that includes…?"

"Well, you're not expected at work until ten, right?" Not waiting for a reply, Draco wriggled his finger at Harry and smirked. "I _think_ I may have something I'd like you to help me clean…"

Harry had never followed Draco so eagerly and quickly to their bedroom.


	7. Choice of Colour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You convinced me to come here, and I trusted you. But this is not what you promised me it would be._

Draco was not sure whether he was more tired of being locked in that horrendous house, or of the general decrepitude of the building they were currently inhabiting. Grimmauld Place was far better than his flat back in Australia, but it was far from being as glamorous and hospitable as the Manor had been before Voldemort took it. Draco didn't like to live among obscurity and screaming portraits hidden underneath moth-eaten black curtains, but he was determined not to say a word about the state of the house, since Harry seemed to like it. But the blond had a limit, and Draco reached his one Saturday evening while Teddy was playing with a ring of keys Harry had given to him. They used to take the child with them on the weekends – Andromeda hadn't seemed fazed by Draco's return.

Draco observed his boyfriend's godson toddling around, the keys shining and clicking in his hands, heading out of the living room and straight into the darkness of the corridor, where not even a single light was ignited. None of them ever allowed Teddy to stay in the corridors alone, for the Noble House of Black hid several powerful secrets. "Teddy?" he asked aloud, standing up and stepping into the corridor. "Teddy, come here immediately!"

"What happened, Draco?" Harry asked, his head popping out of the kitchen's doorframe. "Where is Teddy?"

"He toddled out of the living room," Draco explained, shaking his head. "Now it will be impossible to find him without casting a tracking spell, this house is so bloody dark!"

"Don't say that! I love it this way!"

"You love to live under obscurity and rubble? Fine, but that's not what Teddy needs!" Draco stomped his foot on the floor and turned around, followed by Harry in his quest to find the child. Harry tried to explain himself, but Draco wasn't listening to him. He heard nothing but the sounds of the cracking stairsas they attempted to locate the place where Teddy had gone. After a couple of despairing minutes, a wail provided him with the answer he was looking for. "You filthy Mudbloods, blood traitors..."

"The portrait!" they both exclaimed, running off to the guarded room somehow Teddy had managed to slip into.

The image unfolding before their eyes once they entered the room would have been hilarious had Draco not been as worried as he was. Teddy was sitting in front of the big portrait, the black curtain slowly falling through his fingers towards the floor, while he looked up at the angry Mrs Black, screaming all her hatred for the whole world to hear. Even Kreacher, the old house elf with the shaky aspect, had come to the room to listen to his former owner.

"Enough!" Harry yelled, brandishing a wooden spoon and his apron as his only weapons, as he walked in front of the portrait, snatching the curtain from its spot on the ground and trying to cover the portrait with it. Draco, meanwhile, took Teddy in his arms – a distressed Teddy who was on the verge of tears. The blond wizard took the child out of the room, not wanting to interfere in Harry's heroic actions. When he managed to get back to the living room, the kid in his arms was already crying and trembling. And no matter how many kisses Draco left on that small, blond head, the child wouldn't stop his crying. "Shhh, Teddy, hush," he whispered. "Everything is alright now, you are not in danger..."

Harry found them sitting on the couch, Draco rocking Teddy slightly in his arms, the child already asleep and fisting Draco's shirt in his tiny hands. "It's fixed now."

"I don't care," Draco said lowly. "I don't care anymore, Harry."

"But---"

"You convinced me to come here, and I trusted you. But this is not what you promised me it would be, and you refuse to improve the inhabitability of this old house. You wouldn't do it even for your godson's sake! I cannot always be upon him, preventing him from going out of the golden cage you have mentally put him into! I want you to fix this, and I mean actually _fix_ it!"

Harry stared blankly at his boyfriend, the sweetness of his gentle touch on Teddy's head contrasting with the ice on his voice. With a heavy sigh, Harry walked through the doorframe and came back to the kitchen, the wheels in his head already turning.

*-*-*-*-*-*

"I have the perfect solution," Draco heard when he came down to have breakfast the day after the incident. Harry hadn't turned around, but he obviously had anticipated Draco's presence at the end of the stairs. "I left it in the living room, if you're kind enough to have a look at it."

Draco frowned, for Harry hadn't even had the grace to make eye contact with him, but he shrugged off the feeling of unease and walked towards the other room. There, in the middle of the floor, stood the most incredible scale model house he had ever seen.

It was a perfect reproduction of Grimmauld Place from what he could see. The house looked exactly like it did under daylight, grim yet somewhat appealing. His gaze wandered towards the inside he could distinguish behind the big windows. He frowned at the roof, but said nothing. "What is exactly the meaning of this?" he asked.

"It's the plan of rebuilding this place and making it somehow more inhabitable. No more dark corners, no more guarded rooms with yelling portraits," Harry explained at his back. "I'm sorry for yesterday. I was as scared as Teddy."

"Poor thing didn't know what he had set himself up for," Draco chuckled. "I like the idea, Harry. Even if it's only a plan, it's a lot."

"I thought we could develop it together, you telling me what to do and I immediately turning everything into red and gold nonsense," Harry offered half a smile.

"Talking about red..." Draco started, but Harry had approached him with that wicked smirk on his lips and Draco knew he was doomed if he tried to discuss anything with Harry – anything but the grade of passion the moment deserved, that is. They both had felt lonely the night before, with Draco refusing to leave Teddy's side and then rejecting Harry's failed attempts to make up.

Draco needed a good and steamy sex session, but his mind couldn't be stopped even if Harry was doing _that_ mind-blowing thing to his neck. He had to speak before his mind was too fogged with the steam he was sure their intercourse would generate in such a small and heated space.

"Do you really think I will live under a _red_ roof?"


	8. Draco Malfoy And The Desecrated Tomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I would only be a bother_

"I think you should start going out, Draco," Harry said one particularly warm spring morning, setting the newspaper he had been reading aside. "Being locked in Grimmauld Place, even after all the changes we've made, does little good to you."

Draco shook his head. "If you call 'changes' to actually light the corridors and stuffing the portrait of that crazy woman in the basement, then yes, we've made some changes."

"The object of this conversation is not discussing the new aspect of the house," Harry pointed out, exasperated. "Every time I try to suggest to you…"

"You know exactly how I feel about coming out," Draco cut his boyfriend. "I know I promised to be a little more open, Harry, but these things cannot be achieved in one week."

"It's been almost a year since you accepted to come back to England with me, Draco." Harry sighed and picked the paper up again. "I suppose it's pointless to tell you that the Ministry has cleaned the streets of stray Death Eaters, and that no one would ever _think_ of assaulting you, right?"

"That's because no one except for your friends knows I'm back!" Draco almost yelled. "I'd like things to remain the same."

"My friends?" Harry growled. "Oh, you mean the ones you hide from every time they come to visit? The ones who have kept your secret and you haven't had the _time_ to thank properly? The ones who care about you more than you care to admit?"

"I didn't ask them to!"

"Fine, Draco, have it your way." Suddenly Harry felt very tired – exhausted from arguing about the same topic over again. "I have work to do. You just… stay here or something, okay?"

Draco never replied, and Harry just left the kitchen with the strange feeling of having said the wrong words at the wrong time.

*-*-*-*-*

The Invisibility Cloak was calling him, Draco could feel it. The magical piece was resting on a chair in their bedroom, as if waiting for him to pick it up and put it around his shoulders. _Maybe if I used it, I could go out without being noticed_ , he thought. _Maybe then I could make Harry a little happier_.

Deep inside, he knew he had hurt Harry all the times he had refused to take his advice and stayed at Grimmauld Place sulking. But maybe there was a way to please Harry and watch his whereabouts at the same time. Taking the cloak in his hand, he resolved to wear it and go out for a stroll. The first step towards the exterior was the hardest thing he had ever done – apart from standing up before his father and telling him he didn't support the Dark Lord. Eventually, walking around the house became easiest, and he found himself enjoying the fresh air cutting his soft skin.

The surroundings of the house were not enough, so he started walking towards the end of the street and into the life of Tufnell Park. His feet dragged him towards the iron gates where he could read in decorated words 'Highgate Cemetery'. There was something familiar in that name, but he couldn't place it. Shrugging off the unexpected thrill of fear he felt shivering up his spine, he marched through the doors and into one of the most beautiful places he had ever seen. The trees grew tall and thick against the blue sky, the gravel resounding beneath his feet, while he ambled around. He ended up in front of a beautifully adorned tomb, all marble and white. "Michael Faraday," he read under his breath. "Wasn't he a wizard?"

He heard ruckus in a tomb at his left and headed that direction hastily. When he reached the place in question, all he could see was two hooded people running away, and an open hole in the ground. He looked inside the open tomb, expecting to find anything but what he saw.

The tomb was empty, not a coffin inside but a small package with a note addressed simply to 'D. Malfoy'. He leant in to grasp the parcel with shaky fingers before casting a glance toward the name of the person who would have been buried there.

Severus Snape.

Walking backwards in an awkward manner, Draco tried to escape from the reality he was living. Heedless to where he was stepping, he thought of the only safe place he could find and Apparated straight away into Harry's office at the Ministry, the Invisibility Cloak slipping from his head.

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed when he saw the floating face of his boyfriend in front of him. "You've scared me to death!"

"Don't say that," the blond panted.

"What happened?" Harry asked. "You're out of the house and in my office, wearing _my_ cloak."

"I--- I just---" Draco stammered, shrugging off the cloak and revealing the package still clutched in his hand. It was his stuttering that gave him away, for Harry knew Draco never allowed his nervousness to show.

"Sit down," he ordered. "Let me have a look at this. Where did you find it?" He snatched the parcel from Draco's hands and examined it. "Was it delivered with the morning mail?"

Draco could only shake his head, unable to speak. Harry began to worry and let the package on his desk, calling through the internal communication system for Shacklebolt. "I don't know where you found this, Draco, but I don't like it. No one knows you're here except the Minister and my friends. But we'll sort it out."

The Minister himself stepped into Harry's office in record time, his eyes boring into Draco's grey ones just as he closed the door. "What happened, Harry? It seemed urgent, and now that I see Draco is here…"

"He found this," Harry showed the parcel on his table. "I don't know where it came from, but if no one knows he's here, then why is the note addressed to him?"

"Okay." Shacklebolt sighed and sat in front of Draco. "I need you to tell me where this was when you picked it up. I see some stains on the envelope."

"I was… I was in this cemetery, where Severus is buried," Draco tried to explain. "But he wasn't there, there was a hole and then the note and two people running and there was no coffin!"

Harry looked bewildered at his boyfriend, taking in the disrupted appearance displayed before his eyes. It was a good sign that Draco had decided to go out for a bit, but that horrible experience could mean he would never set foot on the street again.

"What do you mean, there was no coffin?" Shacklebolt demanded. "Last time we checked, Snape was buried in a Muggle cemetery near Grimmauld Place."

"It was open, his tomb!" Draco screeched. "You promised there were no Death Eaters, but who would have desecrated his tomb? I don’t think your chivalrous lions would!"

"He's too excited," the Minister stated. "Let me call Poppy. She will calm him down while we investigate this."

Harry just nodded absently, his worst fears coming to life within each word leaving Draco's mouth. He watched as Shacklebolt called for Madame Pomfrey and took the package with him outside his office.

*-*-*-*-*

A couple of calming spells and a Dreamless Potion later, Draco was peacefully sleeping on Harry's couch in the Ministry while his boyfriend examined the note, twirling it in his fingers. He didn't dare to open it, for it was addressed to Draco, but the checkup had shown nothing dangerous. _Maybe I should open it_ , he told himself. _But Draco would be so mad at me_ , he immediately admonished his own conscience.

Looking longingly at the sleeping figure of his boyfriend, Harry sighed. He would wait until Shacklebolt came back to him with an explanation as to why Snape's tomb was empty - which happened about twenty minutes into the concert of soft snores Draco subjected Harry to.

"Harry," said the Minister from the door which was slightly ajar. "I may have an answer."

"Come in, Kingsley, and please tell me," Harry whispered, not wanting to disturb the serene sleep of Draco Malfoy, drooling all over his couch.

"You're not going to believe this..."

*-*-*-*-*

Draco awoke next to his favorite cushion, and frowned in confusion. He was sure he hadn't had it with him when he had Apparated to Harry's office, but the memories were too confusing. He could make out his boyfriend's frame leaning against the door, at the other end of the room.

"Harry, where are we?" he asked.

"Home," Harry chuckled. "I have a lot to explain to you, but you were asleep so I decided to take you here."

Draco swallowed as he noticed the note trapped in Harry's fingers. He managed to keep his voice steady when he spoke. "Have you found out about... that profanation?"

Harry chuckled again, walking over to where Draco was already sitting up. "I have discovered a few things, unknown facts, Draco. I really think you should read this letter," he offered the note. "Kingsley and I, we are sure it will be enough of an explanation for you. Just know that there is not new surge of Death Eaters, and no one is after you. This has everything to do with your godfather."

Harry left the parcel within Draco's grasp and turned around to leave the room. "Wait!" the blond called. "Aren't you staying?"

"I think this is something you have to find out alone, Draco," Harry admitted. "I would only be a bother while you read it."

Draco nodded and Harry left. The blond eyed the note wearily, his fingertips itching to touch the parchment yet unable to move. "Oh, fuck it!" he reprimanded himself, opening the envelope and unfolding the parchment.

The breath hitched in his throat, and tears built up in his eyes as he read the words his godfather – his first friend – had scribbled down just for him to read.

_Dearest Draco,_

If you are reading this, I am buried in a Muggle cemetery. And if I'm buried, it means I'm dead. I'm sorry for all the pain this may have caused you, my dear boy.

Draco, you may have been given this parchment upon the disinterment of my corpse, hopefully two full years after my burial, just as stated in the testament I left Minerva with. Don't be sad about this, and please don't be mad at me for not wanting to be the object of pilgrimage in the afterlife. The real reason I was buried in a cemetery in the first place instead of being burnt down as I always desired is, of course, Albus Dumbledore. He made me promise to accept a burial should I die before him. Odds are, I died after him. However, I couldn't back out on a magical vow.

Draco, I can only imagine the pain you must have been through. I never showed in public how I felt for you, how I wanted nothing more than to hug you like the son I would never have – like the son Potter would have been, had I been brave enough to defy society. But my mistakes are mine alone, and though I regret not having loved Lily Evans as she deserved, there's nothing I can do to remedy my past.

Just know, my dear boy, that it's normal to have fear – for I'm sure you are afraid in this new world where hopefully Harry Potter is a hero. But a name is just that – a name. Don't let your father's mistakes weigh upon you. You will make your own mistakes, only if you allow yourself not stop panicking about what might happen to you because of your name.

Live your life proudly, Draco. That's what I would have liked for you – happiness.

Don't ever forget the words of an old man. Don't ever forget the sacrifices we all made for you and start living according to them.

I will be forever by your side.

Severus.

His eyes widened and his heart beat faster and harder in his chest. He stilled for a couple of minutes, reading and rereading the words on the parchment until he almost knew them by heart, and made a decision, something he hadn’t done in a long time.

The note forgotten on a crystal table, he stalked upstairs, stubbornly drying away the stray tears on his cheeks and coming to a halt when he faced the closed door of their bedroom. "Harry?" he called, opening the wooden entrance swiftly. "Harry, are you in here?"

"Yes," came the voice of his lover from the bathroom. Draco smiled, heading in that direction.

"Harry, I've made a decision," Draco announced.

"That being?" Harry poked his head out of the bathroom door and grinned at his boyfriend.

"I'm tired of hiding, Harry. I'm tired of being scared of making mistakes, of overanalyzing everything. I think it's time to make this," Draco gestured between them. "This, our relationship... I think it's time we make it public, and we announce I am staying with you in Grimmauld Place... for as long as you want to have me."

Harry lunged towards Draco and embraced him in a tight hug, kissing a wet trail of kisses down his face and into his neck. "Thanks," he muttered. "Thanks..."

That night, the only noise coming out from the Noble House of Black was the muffled sounds of tender lovemaking. They both would face the storm when the day came, but for the night, they were just two lovers getting acquainted with their bodies.


	9. A Song For A Broken Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sometimes I wish someone out there would find me_

Draco never attended funerals, not even the ones held for Severus Snape. Over the years, he had found quite distressing the voice of the speakers, the soft yet faked words they used to describe the life of the one they were honouring. That was why he was all alone in Grimmauld Place the day Harry was to attend Fred Weasley's fifth year anniversary funeral.

It was not that he had not been accepted into the rituals of the Weasley family Harry belonged to. When they had publicly announced they were together, the Weasleys – who already knew – had wrapped them in their arms and shielded them from any external danger. But although he could accept the weekly invitation to have dinner on Sunday evening at The Burrow, just as Harry always refused to share his time with Lucius Malfoy, Draco couldn't make himself walk into a white chapel and listen to people talking about the dead.

They didn't know what they were talking about.

He shook the memories of a war long since finished, and started humming a soft melody as he prepared dinner for two. He always cooked whenever Harry attended any function or funeral related to the war – the savior always came back weakened and somehow dismal about anything he may have seen during his time out. Afterwards, Harry would only come out of the house for work purposes, always coming back as soon as possible to enjoy some time alone with Draco.

The blond cherished those sacred moments.

Just when he was about to finish chopping some carrots, he heard the clinking of keys and a low sigh. He wiped his hands on a dishcloth and walked through the hall, only to hear the click of a door, understanding that Harry probably was locked away in the studio. Shaking his head, he didn't have to wait long before a Muggle song blared through the closed door, reaching his ears.

_I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known, don't know where it goes, but it's home to me and I walk alone._

_I walk this empty street on the boulevard of broken dreams, where the city sleeps and I'm the only one and I walk alone._

Draco knew better than to interrupt Harry when he was listening to that song – his favorite after a funeral or a reminder of the war. However, he walked over to the door, and placed his hands on the wood, his forehead pressed against it, cooling as the song bore on.

_I walk alone, I walk alone, I walk alone, I walk alone._

_My shadow's the only one that walks beside me, my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating. Sometimes I wish someone out there would find me. 'Til then I walk alone._

He couldn't stand it anymore. Giving in to his desires, Draco opened the door to find his lover sitting on his favorite couch, slumped against the back, a glass of whiskey already in his hand. It pained Draco, to see Harry so lost in his own memories, in his own hurting.

"You're not," he found himself saying aloud, startling both himself and the sitting figure.

"What?"

"You're not alone," he repeated, walking towards the couch and wrapping his arms around a trembling wizard. "I am here, and I will be forever here, Harry."

"But _he_ isn't," Harry spat, his eyes teary and somber.

"I cannot change that, but I can help you," Draco offered. "Just let me show you."

Harry nodded shakily, reluctantly, accepting the hand Draco stretched and allowing his boyfriend to lead him upstairs, to bare his body and his soul, to love him.

A year later, that same hand was holding Harry's while George Weasley remembered the life and merits of his twin.

_I'm walking down the line that divides me somewhere in my mind, on the border line of the edge and where I walk alone._

Draco squeezed Harry's fingers and flashed a shy smile at his boyfriend. When the smile was returned, Draco knew Harry would never worry about walking his life alone – he had a family to support him, and a lover to hold him when everything turned black and blue.


	10. The New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You are the closer to a father I have ever known, and I want you to be happy_

Teddy was up at dawn the day he was supposed to ride to Hogwarts for the first time. He was so excited that he had barely slept the whole night. His grandmother had allowed him to spend the night at Grimmauld Place, and had promised to meet him on Platform 9 ¾, where Teddy was going with his uncles.

The soft noises of a city awakening caught his attention. He turned towards the window of his room – Sirius' room – and had a look outside. There were few people on the streets, and he knew no one could notice the house trapped between two blocks of Muggle apartments in the middle of a forgotten square. As he watched a car riding through the street, he wondered briefly if Uncle Harry would drive them to King's Cross.

A sound at the other end of the corridor startled him. Teddy ran to the door and opened it just a tiny bit, enough to glimpse outside. He could see his Uncle Draco sneaking out of Uncle Harry's bedroom with a sheet wrapped around his lower body, stepping on his toes just not to make any betraying sound. Teddy stifled a chuckle. He knew his uncles did _those_ things to each other, had actually known for several years, but they liked to keep a façade of decency in front of an underaged wizard, and just as they never allowed him to practice his bursting magic and changing looks, they never allowed themselves to be seen sharing nothing more than a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Teddy watched as his Uncle Draco closed the door of the spare room, and smiled. They would never change.

But he liked them the way they were.

*-*-*-*-*

After a disastrous breakfast when Teddy had been so nervous about Hogwarts he had not been able to control his magic and therefore the whole kitchen had ended up painted in blasting colors after one of his flare-ups, Uncle Harry had dismissed him from the table and had proceeded to clean everything with a flick of his wand while Teddy got Uncle Draco's help in retrieving the last shreds of personal things spread all over the house.

"I can't believe I'm going to Hogwarts," the young wizard commented every now and then, making his uncle chortle under his breath.

"Me neither, Teddy," he said. "It seems like yesterday when you were born, when I had you in my arms for the first time."

"That was after you came back to England from Australia, right?" Teddy could sense the excitement of a tale he already knew by heart.

"Yes, that's right." Draco smiled softly, the kind of secret smile he only had for Teddy, and closed the trunk. "I won't bore you with the story, though. Harry!" he called. "Are you ready?"

"I'm not ready to let him go," Uncle Harry retorted, exiting the kitchen. "But I'm ready for a trip to the station."

They walked together to the fireplace, Teddy's hopes of a car ride vanishing when he saw his Uncle Harry taking a handful of Floo powder. "You're travelling with your Uncle Draco," he explained. "You could get lost otherwise, King's Cross is too big. I will be right behind you."

Teddy nodded, tugging at Draco's sleeve before stepping into the hearth. "Ready, Uncle?"

Draco took another handful of ashes and clearly stated, "King's Cross!" Then everything became colorful and dazing, and in a split second they were standing in front of another fireplace, a witch with a welcoming badge waving at them.

"Where is Harry?" Draco asked, looking at the empty fireplace behind them impatiently. "He was supposed to step there right after us."

"Don't worry, Uncle," Teddy reassured him. "He will make it. Of that I'm sure."

"I am too, Teddy. But he knows how I hate that he insists in being left behind, and yet he keeps doing so. When he comes here I'm going to---"

"Snog him senseless?" Teddy supplied, a naughty smirk on his perfect face. "It would be about bloody time, Uncle."

"Not in front of you, Teddy, and where did you learn that language?" Uncle Draco seemed scandalized.

"Come on, Uncle, I've seen you." The kid shook his head. "You cannot keep on hiding whenever I'm around. I do know you two are a couple, and I do know what couples do."

"Teddy," Draco warned, but the child didn't stop.

"I just mean, it seems you two are afraid of me finding out what you really feel for each other," Teddy explained. "But you are the closest person to a father I have ever known, and I want you to be happy. I want you to be able to be free around me."

Draco gaped at the child, at a loss for words. At his back, the fireplace roared to life, and Harry walked out of it. "The bloody powder kept sliding out of my hand," he swore lightly, shaking his arms and straightening his robes. "Anything I've missed?"

"Only your godson being cheeky," Draco announced, and with a wink to Teddy he wrapped an arm around Harry's waist.

"Draco, you know we shouldn't---" Harry tried to protest, but Draco silenced him with a soft kiss on the lips.

Teddy smiled and headed to the platform, knowing that there would be no more leaving at dawn whenever he stayed at Grimmauld Place.


End file.
